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　　Drink to me only with thine eyes,
       
　　And I will pledge wi th mi ne,
       
　　Or leave a kiss within the cup,
       
　　And I"ll not ask for wine,
       
　　The thirst that from the souldothrise,
       
　　Doth ask a drink divine,
       
　　But might I of Jove"s nectar sup
       
　　I would not change for thine.
       
　　Isent thee late a rosy wreath,
       
　　Not so much honring thee,
       
　　As giving is a hope that there,
       
　　It could not withered be.
       
　　But thou thereon didst only breathe,
       
　　And send"st it back to me.
       
　　Since when it grows and smells I
       
　　swear,
       
　　Not of itself but thee.